A Very Mizzie Christmas
by Phantomofthebarricade
Summary: An incredibly silly, cheesy Christmas Poem about Les Amis de L'ABC. In which Enjolras is apparently allergic to pine.


'Twas the night before Christmas and all through Musain.

Everybody was busy with songs, jokes and games.

Feuilly was singing, Jehan joined in too.

Grantaire went 'hic' and Joly, 'AAACHOOO!'

Courfeyrac danced by the rug on the floor,

While Combeferre and L'Aigle both shouted 'Encore!'

Bahorel grinned as he set up the tree.

'Twas a grand time of year, they all did agree.

Well, all except one. This one stood alone.

Surveying his friends, he refused to condone

Their thoughtless behaviour. How could they not see

The call, so much higher than presents and trees?

As Enjolras sulked, his friends grew confused.

The holiday season was there to be used!

They did not comprehend him, could not understand.

So they thought 'We'll talk to him and help if we can!'

Feuilly was the first to attempt this great task.

He went up to Enjolras and offered a flask

Of steaming hot cocoa, but he was rebuffed.

You can guess that this left him severely un-chuffed.

'Enjolras, really, it's Christmas!' he said.

'If your not having fun, you'd be better off dead!'

Enjolras glared and in a thunderous tone,

Cried 'Feuilly, forget it! Just leave me alone!'

So poor Feuilly left, with very good grace.

But Combeferre and Joly showed up in his place.

'Enjolras, would you listen- don't tell us to go!'

'There's sometimes more to life than Patria, you know.'

But they were both met with a glare so intense,

That their fear of the glarer became quite immense.

'I'm sorry – I'm sorry – Oh, don't hurt us, please!'

And as they hurried away, Poor Joly gave a sneeze.

L'Aigle and Courfeyrac approached as a pair.

'Hey Enjolras! How's – um – life, for you there?'

Enjolras sighed darkly. 'Look, if you both are here

To make me feel jolly for the time of year,

You're wasting your time. I'm not going to be merry.

So please go away. Take your candles and sherry.'

So the two slunk away, feeling bad for their friend,

But sure he would feel Christmassy in the end.

Grantaire and Bahorel both also tried.

But the Grinch- I mean Enjolras- merely replied:

'Look, I just think that Christmas isn't my thing.

I don't give presents, decorate or sing.

I'm allergic to pine trees, snow makes me feel ill.

Besides, I'm too busy for cheer and goodwill.

I have speeches to finish, and pamphlets to write.

Am I the only one here who cares for this fight?

Jehan was the only one left who had not

Tried, to he gathered what strength he had got,

Went up to Enjolras and here's what he said:

'I'll tell you one thing, before we all go to bed.

Enjolras, I think you've got Christmas all wrong.

It's not about presents, or pine trees, or songs.

It's not about feasting or eating roast boar.

It's exactly the thing that we've always fought for.

The republic's a place where peace all abounds.

Christmas is like that, just not all year round.

But if I can celebrate that one day a year,

Then I'm going to do that, and enjoy it, you hear?

So if you love Patria as much as you say,

Then you should treat Christmas the very same way.'

When Jehan left, along with the rest.

Enjolras was alone, well, excepting his vest. *

And as he stood alone, on that dark Christmas Eve,

Something happened his friends didn't dream they'd achieve.

He thought of his friends, of the whole Christmas season,

And suddenly Enjolras realized a reason

For Christmas, For Christmas was so, so much more

Than pine trees and baubles and queuing in stores.

(I doubt they had stores in eighteen thirty one,

But it worked with the poem. So ahem. We're done.)

The poet Jehan, with his Poety ways,

Had made Enjolras' heart grow three sizes that day.

'I have to do something!' Our reformed hero cried.

'But what can I do? Oh, I don't know,' he sighed.

Then a maniacal gleam came into his eyes,

And Enjolras knew what he'd do on that night.

Christmas arrived, and the Les Amis bunch,

Headed off to Musain for a bit of light lunch.

They were missing a member, and this made them feel bad.

Their remorse for Enjolras had made them all sad.

They flung open the door to the café, and what

A sight met their eyes; what a surprise they all got.

The café had been transformed, seemingly overnight.

Tinsel hug everywhere, It was truly a sight.

A massive, grand pine tree stood there, tall and proud.

A fire blazed in the hearth, spreading warmth all around.

A feast was laid on the table, a thing

Very rare for Musain. It was fit for a king.

Simply astonished, Courfeyrac shouted out.

A perplexed, bemused, confused kind of shout.

'Who could have done this? Who set up this show?'

'Courfeyrac,' Jehan smiled. 'You very well know.'

Enjolras ambled in ten minutes late

And beheld with a grimace, the feast on the plates.

The tinsel, the tree, he glared at with distain.

He apparently hated the change to Musain.

But if you looked closely, you could see in his hair,

A sprig of pine leaf, and a scent in the air

Around him. A cinnamony, Christmassy smell,

That matched the scent of the banquet a little too well.

His voice seemed more hoarse, just by a fraction,

Almost like he had had an allergic reaction.

Perhaps from a pine tree… We really can't say.

No one ever was sure what happened that day.

All that the group knew was that taped to the tree,

A letter was found addressed to 'Les Amis'

Who could have written it? Who could it be?

We never will know, for this tale is fini.

_Sorry for being such an idiot about Christmas._

_Enjolras_

_PS – I may have accidentally broken the fan Feuilly made while setting up. Sorry about that._

*Enjolras' vest counts as a sentient being. Your argument is invalid.


End file.
